


Driving Force

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: Cadet Ellacott and Sergeant Strike [2]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: AU, Army AU, Driving Robin, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27878738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Part two of Cadet Ellacott and Sergeant Strike. They can be read as standalone pieces, but there will be a story arc through the series.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: Cadet Ellacott and Sergeant Strike [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877125
Comments: 47
Kudos: 80





	Driving Force

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChillyHollow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillyHollow/gifts).



> For ChillyHollow, who suggested the driving ❤️
> 
> This is the next piece in the series. I have this largely mapped out now, and although it is going to be mostly a smutfest, there will be plot (ish) and angst and tenderness. I did wonder about making it one multi-chapter work with this as chapter two, but I’m not likely to be updating it that fast. A Tumblr discussion consensus was that I’d post as separate pieces, but with a note explaining that the overall arc will be one continuous story.

“Class dismissed,” Strike said in his deep voice, and stood and watched while the students in front of him packed notebooks back into bags and stood to tuck chairs in. There was a general scraping of chair legs and low murmur of chatter.

Why was he hesitating? _Out with it, man._

“Cadet Ellacott, would you stay behind a moment, please?”

He saw the startled look flit across her face. He hadn’t addressed her directly since their encounter in his office a couple of weeks prior, but then he’d hardly had the chance. She’d been sitting further back during lectures, concentrating on her work, focused and studying hard but staying slightly out of things. He’d wondered a couple of times whether he should have a word with her, but really, what would he say? _I’m sorry I took advantage of you?_ But had he really taken advantage? She’d made the first move, albeit at his own silent invitation. And although he knew he ought to be, he wasn’t, when it came down to it, sorry. _Please don’t think this affects your position here?_ Or worse, the truth - _I’ve dreamed about you almost every night since, and not in an innocent way._

The other students filed out, and Cadet Ellacott made her way slowly towards him, her notebook and pen held neatly in front of her like a barrier, her arms crossed over them. Strike fiddled with his own papers, closing the file, straightening it, hoping she couldn’t see the tremor in his hands. What was it about this woman that utterly destroyed his normal calm equilibrium?

Still, he had an excuse to talk to her now, a reason to need her specifically, and maybe this would ease the tension between them, put them back on a proper teacher/student, officer/cadet footing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin approached the Sergeant’s desk with trepidation in her heart. Surely he couldn’t be about to suggest she move to a different class? She’d done her utmost to behave normally around him, keeping her head down, working hard, submitting her assignments on time. When she’d seen him across the mess hall, eating with his fellow officers while she sat at a long table with the other cadets, she’d carefully ignored him, and hoped she’d managed to hide the heat that rolled through her every time she was in the same room as him, ducking her head to her plate lest the heat in her cheeks was visible for anyone else to see.

In lectures it had been even more difficult. She hadn’t been able to look at him without remembering what those uneven lips had felt like against hers, couldn’t hear his voice without remembering the sound of his groans of pleasure in her ear. Despite her fierce concentration on her studies, she left his presence at the end of every lesson with arousal warm in her groin and her heart hammering, scurrying away down the corridor to escape those dark, dark eyes, those big hands and that broad bulk that had felt so _good_ —

 _Stop it, Ellacott._ She stood to attention in front of his desk, waiting for him to speak. _Please don’t make me leave this class,_ she silently begged him. _I can make this work._ Because when it came down to it, this was the career she wanted, and he the teacher. She wanted his mind, his knowledge, his experience, more than she wanted his body.

Just. It really shouldn’t have been such a close call.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Strike stopped shuffling papers and looked up at her, and even though he thought he’d braced himself, it was still a shock as their eyes met properly for the first time since his office, since he’d touched her cheek with a fondness that had taken him by surprise, a gesture that had made her blush and him feel slightly foolish. She was staring at him intently, and he could feel his cheeks colouring, but he had never been one to back down from a situation that could be awkward.

He cleared his throat. “Your file says you’ve done advanced driving courses.” It was a statement and not a question.

Cadet Ellacott blinked in surprise. He wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting him to say, but clearly this wasn’t it. “Yes, sir.”

“Can you handle a Land Rover?”

A faint smile pulled at her mouth. She held his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

He found himself tilting his head to one side. “Was there something amusing about my question, Cadet?”

She flushed a little. “No, sir. We— I used to own one.”

His eyebrow raised. “In London?”

“Yes, sir. It used to be my parents’, but they didn’t need it after they stopped being so active on the farm. They gave it to us—” her grimace told him she’d used the plural again accidentally “—that is, me and my former husband. He hated it,” she added unnecessarily.

Strike grinned, and was gratified to see the answering twinkle in her eye. “You mean he couldn’t handle it?”

“Something like that, sir.” Her upper lip curled a little in disdain, and suddenly all he could think about was how soft that lip had felt against his, how she’d licked her tongue into his mouth with a confidence he somehow hadn’t been expecting—

Strike cleared his throat again. “Well, I never used to have problems handling any kind of military vehicle,” he said, forcing his mind back to the prosaic. “But I can’t manage a Land Rover on off-road terrain with my leg, and my usual driver is on leave. I’m monitoring a training exercise out on the plain tomorrow. I’d like you to drive me.”

This was the part he really, really needed her not to think too hard about. Of course there were others on the base who could drive him, but the officers were all busy with their own trainees, and since the roadside bomb that took his leg in Afghanistan, he’d had trouble being driven by other people. He didn’t think he’d be able to cope with an eighteen-year-old at the wheel, someone who would have been driving less than a year and never in a military vehicle. He’d tried to swap things around so that he didn’t need to supervise in the field until his usual driver returned from his family visit, but the schedule was what it was. He could easily have claimed a medical exemption, but once he’d got back on his feet - foot - after his initial accident, he’d never used his injury to get special treatment and he wasn’t going to start now. This was the best, if slightly unorthodox, solution available to him.

Cadet Ellacott didn’t so much as blink. “Yes, sir,” she replied smoothly.

“Right.” For some reason, he was floundering for words suddenly. He wanted her to stay, to banter a little more - he’d enjoyed it far more than he ought to - but he had no reason to keep her. “Right,” he said again. “Good. See you in the quadrangle at oh-nine-hundred tomorrow. Field gear.”

“Yes, sir,” she said again. “See you then, sir.”

She hesitated, and Strike felt his gaze soften. “Dismissed,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as warm to her as it did to him.

If it did, she gave no indication. “Thank you, sir.” She turned smartly and left, her low heels clicking on the tiled floor, and as he watched her leave, Strike was suddenly remembering those green lace knickers that he had tried so hard - and failed - to put from his mind. He wondered if she was wearing them.

He was staring at a cadet’s arse. Giving himself a mental shake, Strike forced his attention back to his paperwork, and didn’t look up again until she was safely out of the door and down the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin stood in the quadrangle at ten minutes to nine o’clock the following morning, dressed in the more comfortable field gear of khaki trousers, boots and loose shirt tucked in neatly. She much preferred it to her more formal stiff shirt and skirt that she wore around campus. Her hair was scraped back into a ponytail that stuck out through the back of the peaked cap that she’d chosen to shield her eyes from the sun as she drove. It was promising to be a bright day.

Her neat stance belied her inner turmoil, a mixture of uncertainly, apprehension and excitement. There was no denying that the petrolhead side of her was eager to get her hands on a military Land Rover and put it through its paces. She’d had little chance to drive the Land Rover she’d briefly owned (before her ex-husband had traded it in for the Audi of his dreams) on anything other than London streets or motorways. She was looking forward to some proper off-roading such as she hadn’t done in years.

Her uncertainty lay in the plan for the morning. No Land Rover was in sight, and everyone else passing seemed to know where they were going. Robin had chosen a spot near the edge of the quadrangle where she’d emerged on her route from the cadets’ barracks and stood, waiting apparently serenely. Sergeant Strike had told her to be here at nine, and so she awaited further instructions.

The apprehension she felt was harder to pin down. Eager though she was to get behind the wheel of what she considered a “proper” vehicle, she was nervous to be in such an enclosed space with the magnetic sergeant she had been all but avoiding for the last two weeks. She had tried to analyse their encounter in his office without success. One-night stands had never been her thing. She had heard friends speak of them and marvelled at the confidence she felt sure it must take to be so intimate with someone on a first meeting, to be able to trust so openly in sex, something that Robin knew only too well could be a thing of horror, a weapon, a nightmare. And yet she had done it.

It was the military, she told herself, without success. She trusted in the system that vetted its employees, that performed psychological assessments, that had a system of accountability.

She knew, when she thought about it logically, that this was not a sound principle. She’d read the sergeant’s career history and dug for his files as far as she was legitimately able. He’d investigated some grim crimes perpetrated by his own colleagues and peers. It was perfectly possible for a person to be a decorated officer and also a potential attacker. So why did she trust him? Why had she allowed—? Well, not allowed, positively encouraged. Been a very enthusiastic participant in, in fact.

Robin swallowed. It was what it was, and it mustn’t happen again, she told herself, as a far door swung open and the huge sergeant made his way towards her. Her heart began to pound and heat rose in her cheeks. She was to spend a morning enclosed in a Land Rover cab with him, and she would be professional to a fault. She straightened up, pulling herself more to attention as he approached.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Christ_ , she looked gorgeous. Strike swallowed hard as he made his way towards the waiting cadet. He’d told himself firmly all night, ignoring the excitement coiling in his belly, that this was nothing, that she was a junior cadet who would be replacing his normal driver for the trip and that was all.

Faced with her now, with her khaki trousers cinched in at her impossibly slim waist, her loose shirt failing to entirely hide the swell of her breasts, and that glorious hair swinging in a ponytail that was a delight to see after the tight, severe bun or chignon she always wore it in during classes, he realised he was going to have to work harder than he’d anticipated to keep his thoughts on a professional footing.

Strike, too, had spent a lot of the last two weeks engaging in self-analysis. He was no stranger to casual physical encounters, but he had never mixed work and pleasure. The only colleague he had dated had been Tracey, and she had been his peer and from a different regiment. Nothing in the regs had forbidden their relationship, and it hadn’t had to be a secret.

This, however— Well. It wasn’t a relationship. It couldn’t be. It was a single encounter that he ought to be duty-bound to feel remorse over, but couldn’t bring himself to regret. Nevertheless, there could not be a repeat. She was his junior and, more to the point, his sometime pupil. And this was a workday where he had to go out into the field and supervise some military exercises for another set of recruits, and she was merely his driver because he couldn’t drive the truck himself. That was all.

He had reached her before he’d had a chance to properly gather himself together. He cleared his throat hurriedly.

“Good morning, Cadet.”

“Good morning, sir.”

Her voice was smooth and professional, and her eyes didn’t quite meet his.

“I’ve picked up the keys,” he told her. “Car should be waiting round in the yard.”

“Very good, sir.” And she fell into step beside him as they made their way towards the front of the open square and around the end of the building to the vehicle yard and sheds behind.

They walked in silence. Cadet Ellacott would not address him directly; it wasn’t the done thing. It was up to him to start a conversation or keep his counsel and let the day proceed in quiet. A long-held dislike of the kind of meaningless small talk that his aunt excelled in and his sister had eagerly adopted, the social currency of slices of gossip and pointless discussions of the weather, had given Strike a reputation for being taciturn, a reputation he had been at no pains whatsoever to shed. His usual driver was well used to spending hours where the only communication that passed between them was the sergeant’s grunted instructions.

“How long is it since you last drove a Land Rover?” he heard himself ask, against all his usual norms.

She thought a moment before she answered. “Probably about two and a half, three years?” she replied.

“You can’t have kept it long, then,” Strike responded, surprised.

She cast him a curious sideways glance, and too late he realised what he had given away. How else could he have the knowledge that she hadn’t moved to London until the age of twenty-five at his fingertips unless he had practically memorised her file?

He could feel his cheeks heating up, and didn’t look at her; she turned her gaze back to the path in front of them.

“No,” she agreed. “My husband traded it in for an Audi.”

Was it wishful thinking that there was a trace of scorn in her voice? And why did it even matter to him? Why should he have such an instinctive, visceral dislike for a man he had never even met, and take perverse pleasure in Cadet Ellacott’s dismissal of him?

“More useful in London, I suppose,” was all he said, and she gave a tiny snort, almost too quiet to hear.

They rounded the corner, and Strike walked across to their vehicle for the exercise, a battered but serviceable Land Rover in khaki green, strung around the sides with the ubiquitous fake foliage to help it blend into its surroundings. Cadet Ellacott moved around to the driver’s door and climbed up into the cab as he tossed his jacket into the back and pulled himself into the seat next to her and handed her the key.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin slammed the driver’s door just as the sergeant closed his; suddenly they were enclosed in the cab of the Land Rover together and the key was in her hand, still warm from his.

This was the closest they had been since the encounter in his office; his large thigh was so close, she could have reached out and laid her hand on the muscle. She didn’t dare look at him; heat coiled deep in her body and she concentrated on fitting the key into the ignition and familiarising herself with the controls.

The vehicle was, as she had hoped, almost identical to her beloved old Defender, and started with the same shuddering growl. Robin slid the seat into a comfortable position, checked her indicators, windscreen wipers, mirrors. Good to go. Hands at ten and two on the wheel, she glanced at Sergeant Strike, who was watching her. “Ready to go when you are, sir.”

He nodded tightly, and Robin wondered if it was her imagination that he looked tense.

“Take us out, then, Cadet,” he ordered. “Out the west gate and head towards Salisbury.”

“Yes, sir.” Robin released the handbrake and pulled smoothly forwards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It soon became apparent to Strike that Cadet Ellacott was extremely competent behind the wheel, and he found himself relaxing. His instinct had been correct. She drove with a quiet confidence, remarkably smoothly in the rattly old vehicle, and her small hands manipulated the controls and wielded the gear stick with grace and skill and more than a little strength.

It was distractingly sexy. Strike forced himself to turn away and look out of the window, admiring the rolling hills, as under his direction they made their way up onto the plain. The sun shone warmly. It was going to be a hot morning for the recruits undergoing their training exercise. Strike twisted to look into the back of the vehicle; as he’d requested, it had been loaded with plenty of water for himself and his driver. He was hoping they’d be back at barracks in time for lunch.

He directed Cadet Ellacott up onto the top of the plain to the spot he was to watch. The recruits would be dispatched from the bottom of the valley and would be following their maps, carrying their heavy packs, up past his position and along the tops of the hills before sweeping round in a long arc and back to their waiting trucks. It was a test of endurance on rough terrain and some not-too-tricky map reading. He wasn’t anticipating any issues. The morning was likely to be boring.

The cadet parked the Land Rover neatly and killed the engine, and silence fell.

Strike swept his gaze across the sweep of hill before them. The recruits would come up from their left, pass across in front of them and head on up the ridge; he’d be able to follow their progress for some distance.

Ellacott crossed her hands neatly in her lap. Strike leaned his head back against the back of the seat.

The sun shone down on them. Silence stretched. The cab of the Land Rover grew hotter. Cadet Ellacott fidgeted a little, and Strike was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were sitting. He fancied he could smell her in close heat of the cab, the faintest hint of apples or melon, some kind of shower gel. He wondered if she was wearing the green underwear.

He cleared his throat. This would never do. They had to sit here for a couple of hours, and it was going to be ages before the first charge appeared.

Strike reached around into the back of the Land Rover for his jacket and climbed out of the vehicle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nonplussed, Robin wondered where the big sergeant was going as he stepped down from his seat and slammed the door behind him. Not that she wasn’t glad of a little space. He was overwhelmingly masculine in the enclosed cabin, and she could smell him, a little of shower gel but mostly just very...male, musky and warm in a way that she really wished she could forget, but was taking her thoughts right back to that day in his office, to the feel of his bulk between her thighs, his—

 _Stop it._ She was still too hot, and it was going to be a long morning. She wound down her window to let some air through, and leaned across to wind the passenger window down too. Almost immediately the unmistakable scent of a lit cigarette reached her. Was Sergeant Strike... _smoking_?

Well. It couldn’t exactly be anyone else, up here in the middle of nowhere. But it was none of her business. Robin folded her hands in her lap again and looked out of the windscreen at the beautiful view before her.

She could hear his crunching footsteps on the rock and scree around the Land Rover’s wheels, and then he appeared in her side mirror, standing at the back of the truck gazing out across the valley. She watched him covertly as he drew on his cigarette, and marvelled that something that she’d never particularly minded but always found the idea of vaguely distasteful could manage to look so...well. Smoking was not supposed to be sexy, but on this man it somehow was.

He shifted his stance, and their eyes briefly met in the mirror; blushing, Robin hurriedly looked away.

It was going to be a long morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Strike decided it wise, in the short term, not to get back into the vehicle. A little space was doing him good, and he was enjoying his cigarette. He tended not to smoke in uniform; it wasn’t forbidden, but now that he was more senior, and had a position of responsibility, smoking out the back with the others was something he tended to avoid. Up here, there was no one to see except Cadet Ellacott, and it was perhaps a little late, he thought ruefully, to worry about what she thought of him.

He was idly perusing the valley laid out below them, wondering when the first recruits might pass and pondering having a second cigarette, when the driver’s door of the Land Rover opened and the cadet climbed down, her boots crunching on the loose stones. She slammed the door and made her way around the vehicle to where he stood. She’d shed the cap, leaving it in the truck, and her ponytail swung free, glinting red gold in the sun.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged. “Bored,” she said by way of explanation, and he nodded.

“Going to be that kind of a day,” he replied, and pulled his cigarettes and lighter from his pocket again.

He offered the pack to her. “Do you...?” But he wasn’t surprised when she shook her head mutely. She watched from the corner of her eye as he extracted a cigarette and lit it, slid pack and lighter back into his jacket pocket.

Silence fell again while Strike smoked and they both gazed unseeing at the view. Cadet Ellacott scuffed at the stones a little with her boot.

“I don’t normally smoke in uniform,” Strike said eventually, making conversation, and then he grinned at her. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I’ll add it to the list,” she responded without missing a beat, and then abruptly flushed beet red as though horrified by her own boldness. Shocked, Strike laughed, and then she giggled, and her eyes twinkled cheekily at him.

“It’s not a very long list,” he heard himself say, and inwardly cringed a little. _Christ, Strike, are you...flirting with her?_

She shot him a heated sideways glance that sent a jolt of lust through him, and muttered “yet” under her breath.

Strike stared at her, and she looked back at him, and then her chin raised just a little in a challenge, a borderline defiant gesture that reminded him of her determination in his office, and that had just the same effect upon his libido now as it had then.

This was it, then. This was the moment he’d been so determined to avoid. This was the crossroads, the point at which they either consigned what had happened in his office to the past, labelled it a moment of madness never to be repeated...or allowed the attraction between them to grow. He’d been very sure how he was going to handle this moment, knew exactly what the right thing to do was.

Instead, he stepped forward and kissed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Afterwards Robin wasn’t sure how she went from standing next to her commanding officer engaging in a little banter to being pressed up against the back of the Land Rover with his hands cupping her face and his tongue plundering her mouth, but she welcomed the onslaught with a moan of delight, her hands sliding into his hair to pull him closer. Her back landed against the rear door of the vehicle with a _thunk_ , and then his bulk was pressed into her and he felt so _good_ , so strong and solid and real.

The sergeant kissed her hard as his hands slid into her hair, tugging her ponytail band free, his fingers combing though the tresses he released, exploring.

Robin met his fierce kisses with her own passion, tasting him, tugging at his hair, and with a growl he pressed closer, insinuating his thigh between hers. Her legs parted eagerly for him, welcoming him, and he rocked against her hip. She could feel his rapidly hardening cock pressed against her, and groaned into his mouth, the fizzing arousal she’d felt all morning in his presence igniting and burning her up.

He answered with a growl, and then his lips were moving from her mouth to her jaw and across to her ear, his breath hot against her skin and his breathing harsh in her ear as his hips ground against hers. The heat between them was instant and palpable, and desire clenched hard in her groin as he bit gently at her neck.

“Sir,” she gasped as he nipped at her with his teeth.

“Ellacott,” he replied, his voice impossibly deep, muffled in her neck, and his hands on her body now, on her hips, sliding up to span her waist, tugging her shirt from her trousers. His lips against her throat sent waves of pleasure through her, and then his fingertips were on the skin of her stomach, gentle suddenly, stroking across her. Robin dropped her head back with a moan of delight.

Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly spotted a helicopter heading towards them, and then she could hear it over the thunder of blood in her ears, and abruptly she remembered that the military manoeuvres were to be monitored from the air today as well.

“Sergeant,” she gasped now, her hands moving to his chest, pushing, and he stepped back at once, dropping his hands away from her, breathing hard.

“Shit, sorry—”

“No, it’s fine, I just—” Robin indicated with her hand at the approaching helicopter, and Sergeant Strike looked up, squinting against the sun, and appeared to notice it for the first time as well.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Forgot they were doing that today.” He glanced back at her uncertainly, and Robin, still leaning on the Land Rover because her legs felt like they might be too wobbly to hold her weight, gazed back at him. She was aware of how she must look, her hair a mess around her shoulders, her lips swollen from his kisses, her shirt untucked. He hardly looked less debauched, panting and rumpled and with, she couldn’t help her eyes straying to, a very obvious erection outlined in his khaki trousers.

Breathing hard, they stared at one another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Strike had forgotten that the helicopter would be out today, had forgotten that several dozen young recruits were on their way up the hill already, had forgotten that many of his fellow officers would be stationed at various points along the route. Had forgotten everything in the heat of the moment, in the lust that had overtaken him in her presence. He cursed himself for his weakness to fight it even as the desire still poured through his body and he itched to touch her again, to feel that silken hair and impossibly soft skin, to taste and explore and possess.

She looked incredible, and the desire in her eyes as she gazed at him was nearly his undoing. It was all he could do to stop himself from just taking her here and now and hang the consequences. But it wasn’t just his career he had to think about, it was hers too, and he couldn’t allow himself to risk both.

The ache of his arousal was excruciating, but he ignored it and forced himself to step back again. Her eyes flicked to the very obvious bulge pressing against the front of his trousers and she bit her lip; Strike could feel his body respond to her desire, and he closed his eyes briefly, fighting to get everything back under control.

“Sorry,” he said again, his voice hoarse, as the cadet dragged her gaze away and began to tuck her shirt back in, pull her hair back into its ponytail with the band she picked up off the ground where he’d dropped it. Over her shoulder, he could see the first recruits coming up the hill, and he moved around the vehicle to climb back into the cab where his clipboard sat waiting for him.

Her hand on his arm stopped him; he glanced down at it and then up at her. She was more in control now, the wild look in her eyes that so inflamed him tamped down a little, her gaze soft.

“I’m not,” she murmured.

Strike took a shuddering breath, gave her a curt nod, and reached for the door of the Land Rover. He took a moment shielded by the door to attempt to adjust himself that he might comfortably sit, and by the time he was settled into his seat in the cab, Cadet Ellacott had moved around to her door and climbed in as well, readying herself and the vehicle in case they were needed to move to another location.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Little was said between them during the next two hours. The simmering sexual tension in the cab of the Land Rover was ignored in favour of officialdom; Sergeant Strike filled in forms and counted passing recruits. Robin climbed out of the cab again and stood by to offer water, but almost all the trainees passed by without availing themselves. They were expected to carry all they needed in the field and take care of their own hydration; the truck stations were only supposed to be backups.

Overhead, the helicopter circled, tracking down the valley and back up, a constant, buzzing reminder of what had nearly happened against the back of the truck. Robin wondered how far they might have gone. She was in combat trousers and tightly laced boots; would she really have taken all that off, exposed herself on an open hillside? Calmer now, she liked to think not, but the lust that seemed to take her over in the sergeant’s arms suggested otherwise.

Strike kept his focus very firmly on the task at hand, pushing all thoughts of what might have happened from his mind and largely succeeding as he counted recruits and filled in his paperwork. Finally the last had come past and their job was done; the helicopter moved away, following the tail-enders up and over the ridge and disappearing from view. They could hear its buzz still, but it was unlikely now to return.

Silence descended in the cab of the Land Rover. Robin had stowed the water away in the back again. Strike put his clipboard down. They sat, looking once again at the view spread out before the truck, the ignition key sitting on the dashboard in front of them. Robin made no move to start the journey back down to the base, and Strike issued no order.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin swallowed hard, wondering if the silence in the vehicle was filled with as much longing on the part of the sergeant as it was on hers. Free of distractions, her mind and body returned with a vengeance to the moment pressed up against the back of the truck; renewed desire flooded her. The late morning was hot, as it had promised to be. Even in the gentle breeze the Land Rover’s cab was warm, and she could smell the sergeant, hot and musky and absurdly masculine. Her eye cast sideways to his big hand resting on his thigh; she longed to touch both, to feel his hand on her skin and his thigh between hers. Fresh lust clenched in her groin and she shifted uncomfortably.

Next to her, he took a slow, shuddering breath, and Robin was unable to stop her gaze wandering further; with a shock of lust she could clearly see that he was just as aroused as he had been earlier.

Her eyes raised to his face and he gazed back at her, and the hunger in his look made her sway towards him, unbidden. Before she had time to decide if this was a good idea or not, they were kissing again, and her impatient hand went straight to his fly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Strike jumped at the sudden, unexpected touch of her, and moaned into her mouth; the desire that hit him, unquenched from earlier, knocked him sideways and he was rocking into her touch at once. Even as their tongues explored, she was pulling herself closer and wrenching at his belt and button. He helped her, and suddenly his aching cock was free and in her hand, and his head dropped back against the seat with a groaned expletive as she began to stroke and squeeze him and the pleasure rose like a tidal wave.

Dimly he was aware of not wanting to leave her behind, his hands fiddling with her waistband too, slipping the button free, sliding down inside, and the heat and wetness of her sent a bolt of need through him that made him buck helplessly into her hand.

Like their first encounter, this wasn’t going to take long. He’d been on the edge of arousal for hours and longing to touch her again for two weeks. Her hand worked his cock as his big fingers slid into her knickers and began to caress her; her hot, gasping moans in his ear drove his lust on and he pushed his hand down further, sliding a finger into her tight, wet heat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin gasped as pure need hit her. The feel of his finger working inside her swept her away on a wave of pleasure, and when he added a second, stretching her, working her skilfully, she knew she was going to lose control embarrassingly fast. She’d wanted him too much for too long, and all she could do was pump her hand against him in return and hope that he didn’t think her too hasty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keeping control was not a problem Strike had ever really had before. Everyone had their moments, but he mostly knew how to recognise when he was too near the edge and ease back a little. Somehow with this woman the normal rules didn’t seem to apply, and he was passing the point of no return before he could apply the brakes. The scent of her as he buried his face in her neck, the silken slide of her hair against his cheek, her guttural sounds of need in his ear, the pure pleasure of her hand pumping his cock; there was only this moment and the unstoppable tide sweeping over him.

He came with a hoarse groan, spilling over her hand and himself and the seat, his hips jerking up into her fist as he chased the pleasure, and he was distantly aware of her soft cry as she dropped her head back and convulsed in his arms, clenching on his sliding fingers, her voice dropping to a shaking moan.

Gradually, gasping, he stopped, his hand stilling, slumped against her, panting into her neck. Pleasure shuddered through him still; he couldn’t quite believe how good even a handjob could feel when it was her hand, her scent, her body next to his.

Quiet settled over the vehicle as they breathed together, heart rates and gasping breaths slowing. Slowly Strike came back to himself. His hand was still in her knickers, his fingers resting within her, and her hand was slack around his cock now as it began to relax. He found himself softly kissing her neck, his lips against her skin, gently exploring, vaguely wondering what he was doing. Tender was not something that was part of this...whatever this was. It was hardly a relationship. It was forbidden to be.

He tasted her sweat, licked at her softly, knew he had to stop. The sex was one thing, but nothing more could come of what was between them. It was already too much.

She turned her head a little, rubbing her cheek against his, nuzzling against him, and Strike gently drew back, slowly pulling his hand free and feeling her shudder as his fingers left her. She drew her hand away too and sat up, and then they were straightening their clothing and, once again, not looking at one another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin tucked her shirt back in, did up her trousers, tidied her hair, all the while not looking at the big man sat next to her. How could he manage to give her more pleasure with two fingers than her former husband had in over ten years together? What was it about him, about his bulk, his scent, his—?

Straightened up, presentable enough, she sat in the incongruous sunshine with the tableau of hills in front of them, still trying to gather her scattered wits. _What now?_ she wondered. She’d been pretty sure that the encounter in his office had been a one-off. What was this? Another isolated occasion?

She risked a sideways glance at him, and he looked back at her. She could see her own uncertainty mirrored in his face, and something about it gave her a sudden sense of camaraderie. Whatever this was, they were equals in it in a way that they were not on the base; somehow the fact that he was also unsure of what was occurring between them made her bold. To her own surprise, she leaned across and kissed him, soft and gentle and closed-mouthed, and he didn’t withdraw. He returned the gentle pressure of her lips but didn’t try to take it further. Robin drew back, meeting his gaze, and smiled.

His answering grin was one of relief, slightly cheeky. Robin pulled her features straight, her eyes twinkling.

“Where next, sir?”

“Back to base, I think, Cadet? It’ll be time for lunch by the time we get back.”

“Yes, sir.”

Robin reached for the key, started the engine and pulled the Land Rover smoothly back out onto the track.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to suggest scenarios below or on Tumblr @lulacat3, where you can also suggest anonymously if you so wish...


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